Not Alone
by The Non-Socialite
Summary: Alexander Hamilton has been through the ringer. He feels underappreciated and ignored. He has sunk so low into an abyss of his own darkness, nobody can touch him without being consumed by it. No one except for the least expected. No one except for John Laurens.
1. Alexander Hamilton

Alexander Hamilton was tired of being underestimated. He felt like nobody acknowledged him, not even George Washington, his adoptive father-figure. Alex had been a group home called "Founding Father's Home for Delinquents", run by Mr. Washington himself. With his 6' 3" stature, broad chest, large hands, and a formidable RBF, most of the children in the home where terrified of him. Alex knew differently but after four years of persistent abuse (not from Washington), he still jumped when Mr. Washington stood up or moved too quickly.

"Alex, come down stairs, it's your day to make breakfast," Martha Washington called up to him, her voice barely carrying through the thick walls of the Washington Mansion. Alex was one of the teenagers with the most seniority (he had been at "Founding Father's" for about six months, which was a surprisingly long time. Most kids went in and out of the system as they were adopted or sent to foster care. Nobody seemed to want Alex, so there in the Washington Mansion he stayed.) and so he was entrusted with making breakfast on Wednesday and Friday morning. He didn't mind, he liked cooking. It relaxed him.

"Coming Mrs. Washin- I mean Martha!" Alex hollered back. The Washington's tried to get all of the children in the home to call them by their first names, but it was a habit that Alexander couldn't see, to shake. Growing up in the Carribean, underneath the care of his late mother's landlady, had taught him to always talk to adults with respect. Several lashings were all it took to have her words implanted in his brain for the rest of his life.

Alex slowly unlocked his bedroom door, careful to pull the sleeves of his sweater over the self-inflicted cuts he made. He had shown them to Martha and George once, on accident, but they had winced, so he made sure to wear long sleeves around them, and always cover the scars with the water-proof foundation he kept next to his bed. Just in case a family came to see his prospects.

As Alex made his way down the stairs, he bumped into a friend of his, who had come to the Washington Mansion only a week before himself.

"Hey Lafayette," Alex smiled as the French teenager turned to face him without pausing. They continued down the stairs, Lafayette walking backwards so he could talk to Alex.

"Ah, Alex, mon amie. How are you doing this... how you say? Morning?" Lafayette asked in heavily accented voice.

"That's right Laf. And I'm fine, thanks for asking." Alex knew that Laf was perfectly able to speak English, but he thought that the accent made him sound more elegant. Even without the accent, Laf was a beautiful creature. His face had been molded to perfection, with the ability to appeal to everyone, gay or straight. His high cheekbones, pared with his stormy eyes, fluctuated color depending on what Laf was trying to do (usually pick up hot guys. Alex sympathized) sent most people head over heels. His body was toned to that of a swimmer, but in reality, Laf was terrified of the water. He had come from overseas from France with his father and mother, but on the way, the boat had experienced some freak accident, leaving Laf as the sole survivor, stuck in a foreign land, unable to even speak the language. Ever since, Lafayette had been horrified at the thought of even looking at a large body of water. Sometimes he would have a panic attack just by the simple act of showering. Alex could understand. His kryptonite were storms. But, Alex didn't talk about that part of his life.

"Of course, Alexandre. It is a common curtesy non? I myself am fine this morning, but I am also hungry. Just thinking about your cooking makes my stomach rumble. What will it be this morning? I vote for French Toast," Lafayette grinned. Alex personally agreed. Most everybody loved his French Toast. Except for Charles Lee, who insisted that Alex was trying to kill him by adding milk to his French Toast mixture (Lee claimed to be lactose intolerant). Alex had learned to make Lee a plate of eggs, then shoo him off into a corner to eat his sub-par breakfast.

"I think French Toast would be nice. Do you think I should put milk in Lee's eggs again?" Alex asked. One of the reasons he and Laf were so close was their mutual hate of the oldest boy at the Washington Mansion. Every day the two woke up and prayed someone would come and adopt the awful Spawn of Satan (SOS). The Washington Mansion relinquished the kids at the legal age of 18, and Lee was almost 17. A year seemed way too long to put up with the devil reincarnate.

"Nah, he might catch on if you keep it up. Maybe you could ask Angelica to put milk her breakfast on Mondays and Thursdays. She would be happy to do it. Especially if you ask Alexandre," Laf winked at Alex, who wrinkled his brow.

"You think she would have caught on that I'm not interested," Alex growled. Lafayette laughed and finally turned around, so he was walking down the last step like a normal person. The first time that Martha had caught Laf walking down the stairs backwards, she had flipped out, yelling about the possibility of broken bones, brain injuries, and several other mishaps that would befall Laf if he fell. So, Laf made sure to take the last step as a normal person, to avoid giving Martha a heart-attack.

The pair entered the kitchen and found the skillet already heated up. Martha stood at the large marble island, already getting out the eggs, vanilla, sugar, and the egg nog that Alex used on special occasions. "I hoped you would want to make your French Toast today," Martha admitted "I love your French Toast."

"I was planning on it. When did you get the egg nog?" Alex asked. They usually only sold egg nog in Christmas and it was at least the middle of August. Martha had a dangerous habit of threatening people to get what she wanted.

"I told Mark ahead of time that I would need some. He's so helpful with these sorts of things." Martha explained

Laf trembled a little, either in awe or terror, of his mother-figure. "Oui mère. I'm sure that he is very helpful to you and your... needs," he shivered and turned around to take his usual place at the dining table. "Hurry up Alexandre. I'm hungry."

Alex set to work whisking eggs, pouring in eggnog and milk as the mixture turned an off-white. He added a special ingredient of his, cinnamon, to add a kick to the sweet breakfast. turning to the fridge he opened it, looking for his usual sourdough bread he used. Unfortunately, he had no luck in his search.

"Martha, where's the sourdough that I always use?" Alex asked

"Oh shit! I'm sorry, I forgot. We can use WonderBread instead!" Martha apologized.

Alex breathed deep, trying to rein in his temper. He always tried to be calm with Martha, she was practically his mother after all, and heaven knows she wouldn't take to the treatment well. She had a hothead, that rivaled even Alex's. But finally, he couldn't keep in his thoughts. In the lowest voice possible, he muttered; "No, I do not want to use fucking WONDERBREAD! Bordel de merde!"

Laf gasped "That was a bad move Alexandre," he said in his native language "Martha has been working on learning French."

"Surely she hasn't gotten to curse words yet!" Alex replied in kind.

"Non! You know that when she commits to something, she commits! We're doomed!" Laf exaggerated. Martha cleared her throat and the two teenagers jumped.

"Am I missing something here?" Martha asked. The boys sighed in relief. It appeared as though Martha wasn't quite as committed as they thought.

"Non, mère, Alexandre was simply expressing his disappointment at the lack our sourdough. Nothing bad was said, he is good boy, non?" Laf lied, sweating nervously. In his heart, he knew Martha would never lay on Alex and him, but damn, that woman was scary!

"Yes, yes, Alex is a good boy," she said absentmindedly, "Sorry boys, I'm going to run out to the store to grab the right bread. Alex, you better start on Lee's eggs, he's always one of the first ones up," Martha started muttering "I rue the day I decided to take that boy in out of the kindness of my heart. I swear, if Aaron brings another dried-up street rat into my house, I'm going to blow my lid!"

The teens laughed, comforted by the fact that they weren't the only ones who detested Lee. Alex began to work again, whisking eggs, adding the tiniest bit of milk to make the eggs fluffy. By the time he was done, Lee had emerged from upstairs, hair rumpled and a mess. His piercing ice blue eyes looked around the kitchen desperately, searching and looking, until he found what he needed. Without warning, he lunged at Alexander. Lafayette stood up with a shout, and Alex wheeled away, bringing the skillet full of eggs above his head, and prepared to smash it into Lee's head if he got too close. Instead of running into Alex, Lee reached out past him and grabbed a coffee mug. He took several sips, then turned around to see the carnage he had caused. Alex had spilled most of the eggs when he had brought the pan above his head and Laf had sent his tea sprawling by hitting it when he had jumped up. Both of their eyes were wild and frenzied. After all, it wasn't the first time Lee had lunged at them, and not for the purpose of reaching his morning coffee.

"Geez, Immigrants, calm yourselves," Lee scoffed "I'm not going to hurt you. All I want is coffee," he eyed Alex with an unspoken malice "Were those my eggs your dumb ass spilled all over the floor?"

"Yes, they were your eggs, until you lunged at me like you were trying to kill me!" Alex retorted. "Why don't you get your lazy ass out of bed and make your own breakfast?" Immediately, Alex regretted his mouth. Lee was incredibly violent when he didn't get the answer he wanted.

"You'll pay for that, dirty little pèdè!" Lee swore. Laf gasped and stood, getting ready to throw a punch at Lee. Alex raised his frying pan once again, preparing to smack Lee in the face. Pèdè was one of the worst things Lee ever called him. And the fact that it was true hurt even more. Just as Alex had swung the skillet, his foster father walked into the room.

"Alexander!" George Washington bellowed. Startled, Alex dropped his pan only a couple inches from Lee's face. Alex flushed with shame. Not because he had almost knocked Lee out, but because his foster father had caught him. Laf winced and made to flee from the room, but George flung out a hand, blocking his exit.

"Alexander, what are you doing?" George asked, his voice deadly calm. He leveled his gaze at Alex, his cool, grey eyes demanding a satisfactory answer.

"I was getting ready to smack Lee in the face with a frying pan. Sir," Alex added.

"Why were you going to hit Lee in the face with your frying pan Alexander? If you have an issue with Lee, settle it with words, not with a frying pan to the face!" George rumbled, head in hands "I've told you, Alex. You have to control your temper."

"He was provoked Mr. Washington!" Lafayette said "It's not his fault! Lee called him a pèdè!"

"I don't speak French Laf. What does pèdè mean?" George asked

"I do not know how to say in your language. Is bad insult to any man. I think the translation is somewhere along the lines of a derogatory name for a homosapien man."

"Homosexual," Alex corrected out of habit. "He called me a fag, Mr. Washington."

"Is that so, Mr. Lee?" Lee shrugged and calmly took a sip of his coffee.

"Takes one to know one, sir," Lee smiled evilly. George turned a deep shade of marron.

"I am married to a woman, you evil little..." He stopped himself and took ten deep, calming breaths. "Lee, if it was provoked, then you are in the wrong. For the rest of the week, you will be in charge of cleaning every goddammed toilet in this goddammed house!" Lee groaned under his breath. He emptied his coffee cup slowly, then turned around to put his mug into the sink.

"Sure thing, Mr. Wash," With that, Lee turned on his heel and slunk out of the kitchen. As soon as Lee was out of ear shot, George turned around to face Alex and Lafayette.

"I'm very disappointed in you two. You are some of the oldest boys in this house, you can't keep letting Lee get under your skin like this." George said

"But George!" The two teens chorused.

"No. You know what you did was wrong. Very wrong. So incredibly wrong, I'm going to ask you to stuff toilet paper into every toilet and make Lee plunge them all."

The three laughed, and George slung his arms over their shoulders. "So, Alex, what are you making for breakfast? Please God, let it be French Toast."

This sent Laf and Alex into another giggling spree.

"What?" George asked "What is so funny?" He paused and looked around "Hey guys, where's Martha?"

Laf and Alex were too busy crouched over laughing to answer.


	2. Aaron Burr, Sir

**Aaron Bur, Sir**

 **A/N: Hi, I'm The-Non-Socialite, and I am so happy you have chosen to read this story. I love and appreciate all of you so much. I would love it if you could spare 30 seconds to leave a review, but no pressure. This is my first Hamilton Fanfiction and I've become a huge Lam's shipper. Almost (just kidding, all of my chapters will) feature some mention self-harm or some other form of abuse. This is a hard subject for a lot of people, so if you aren't comfortable with it, please don't read my story. Also, if you have experienced these difficult themes, feel free to PM me, I am happy to talk. I am here for all of you. Thanks so much**

 **-TNS**

Later that night, the whole house was eating the rest of Alexander's French Toast (he had made enough for at least three meals). Everyone was shoving the food sown their throats as possible without choking. Well, everyone except for Lee, who was dealing with a horrible toilet accident. Somehow, several rolls of tissue paper had been stuffed down into the toilet, and Lee was having to fish it out by hand.

"Okay, kids, what are we doing tomorrow?" Martha asked. No one answered, their mouths being as full as they were. Finally, Alexander choked down the last bite of his, coughing in his eager to suggest an activity.

"Let's go to the park," Alex said "There's plenty of things to do there. And I heard there's going to be a Frisbee tournament happening later," Alex harbored a love for Frisbee. It was one of the only physical activities he exceled at.

"Sure Alex," Laf scoffed, words garbled by his food "Let's play the sport you are awesome at and we all suck at," he paused and turned around to look at another one of his friends, a tall, muscular teen named Hercules Mulligan. Herc was the adopted son of the Washington's, he had been their child for almost a year. Cursed with an amazing potty-mouth, and the ability to turn almost anything dirty, everybody loved him. "Well maybe except for Herc," Laf amended.

"Ha, you know it Biiiiiiiit-" Herc laughed as Martha flung her hand over his mouth.

"No cursing at the table," She scolded "That's a great idea Alex. If Lee is ever finished plunging that toilet, he can join us." Everybody nodded. Alex wondered why this place was called a home for delinquents. The kids were all great. In Alex's opinion, it was more of a rehab for the slightly troubled.

Just as they were finishing up dinner, a knock came from the front door. Martha bustled to clean up the kitchen and shooed the smaller children up the stairs. She turned around to look at Alexander. He smiled and retreated upstairs, locking his door behind him. Alex wheeled around to his bedside table and uncorked his foundation. He rolled up his sweater sleeves and lathered it on, thick and heavy. The color was a little off, perhaps a shade lighter that his actual skin tone, but at least it was serving its purpose.

After he finished covering up the scars he combed his hair into a more presentable style. It was longer now, maybe down to his shoulders or a little past. He quickly roped it into a low pony tail, and unlocked the door. No one except George and Martha knew about his self-harm, and he intended to keep it like that. Downstairs, he heard Martha and George talking to someone, but he couldn't make out the words. As he inched closer to the front door, he could hear who George and Martha were talking to. It was Aaron Burr, the social worker who took care of "The Founding Father's". Alex had a strong dislike for the man. He was so successful, he had graduated early, was nice but vague, and everybody liked him. Everyone except for Washington. If Aaron Burr was there, it meant that he had another kid to drop off at the Mansion. Alex sighed. As much as he loved the Mansion, it was starting to get overcrowded. If Aaron had another kid with him, he would be forced to sleep in Alex's room, his fortress of solitude, his safe place, his area to let off steam, his one place where he could cut and no one would judge him for it. But that was going to be compromised.

He stopped towards the bottom of the staircase and prepared to eavesdrop. Snippets of their conversation could be heard from his position now.

"We found him in the hospital. His father abandoned him there," Aaron said

"Poor thing. Are you okay?" That was Martha's voice. No response came. Alex assumed that the subject of pity had nodded or shaken his head. "Don't worry, we'll take care of you. This is a safe place," Bar Lee, Alex thought scornfully. "What's your name?"

A mumbled response came, but it was so quiet that Alex couldn't make it out.

"Okay, how old are you? It's so we can decide what room to put you in," Alex finally heard George speak. Another mumbled answer replied, and George let out a little sigh. "That's fine. ALEXANDER!" George suddenly yelled. Alex jumped and nearly fell down the stairs. Damn, he had been caught.

"Coming sir," he called, putting a hand over his mouth so his voice was muffled a bit, as though he was talking from far away. He stomped on the steps a few times, mimicking the noise of going down stairs. Without pause, he whirled around the corner and burst into the drawing-room. Sitting in front of him were the Washingtons, Burr, and a small boy, maybe Alex's own age. He was short, but not as short as Alexander, who barely cleared 5' 6". He was obviously malnourished, despite being in a hospital, and was weak-looking. But even though he looked a mess, Alex saw a fire in his eyes, a desire to prove himself, a readiness to defend what he believed in. It also didn't hurt that he was incredibly handsome, with dark eyes and long curly hair, just longer than Alex's. His entire being was freckled, like tiny stars in the night sky, and God, Alex hoped he was gay. Before he could go further into his exploration of this strange, handsome, beautiful creature, he reminded himself that this guy would practically be his brother.

"Alex, this is John Laurens. Mr. Burr says he speaks fluent English, but for some reason, he's only speaking French. I would have called Laf down, but you're a little more... reasonable. Give it a try, would you?" George asked and Alex nearly ran back out the way he came. He had awful people skills, could hardly hold eye-contact with the person he was talking to, and French wasn't his first language. Still, he crouched down to John's level and began to speak.

"Bonjour, je m'appelle Alexander Hamilton. C'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer. Comment vous appelez-vous?" Alex lowed his voice to what he thought was a calming whisper.

Hello, my name is Alexander Hamilton. It is nice to meet you. What is your name?

"Je m'appelle John Laurens. Pourquoi suis-je ici? Où est mon père?" John whispered back

My name is John Laurens. Why am I here? Where is my father?

Alex turned around to face George "He is wondering why he is here, and," Alex choked a bit "Where his father is. He wants to know where his father is. What do you want me to tell him?"

Martha let out a little sob, but quickly composed herself "Introduce us and tell him why we are here. That's all, we'll talk to him later, when he is willing to speak in English." Alex nodded and returned his gaze to John.

"C'est Martha et George. Ils dirigent cette maison. C'est ce qu'on appelle "la maison des pères fondateurs". Vous êtes ici parce que ... parce que vous êtes comme nous."

That is Martha and George. They run this house. It is called Founding Father's House. You are here because...because you are like us.

John nodded, but didn't respond to Alex. Instead, he seemed to curl more tightly into a ball then he had before. George seemed to notice this, and he turned around to Alex.

"Show him to your room Alex. He'll be staying there as long as he is with us." George said. Alex translated what George had said and extended his hand for John to grab. Burr held his hand out to stop Alex.

"Hey, stop! He doesn't like physical contact!" He was interrupted by John Laurens sliding his hand into Alex's. Alex shot Burr a triumphant glare and heaved John of the couch. John stumbled a bit, almost collapsing on shaking legs. Alex put steadying arm underneath John's armpits, beginning to haul him out of the room when John shoved Alex's arm off of him. He continued to walk, limping a little.

"Um... it's the other way," Alex said in French, showing him up the staircase. He walked a few paces behind John, making sure that he would be able to catch John if he were to fall.

"Here it is," Alex said, gesturing to the room at the back of the hallway. He realized later that he hadn't used French, but John still nodded and limped towards Alex's room. He opened the door without Alexander and settled himself into a corner, ignoring the bed that was clearly in the middle of the room. Despite his aversion to the bed, Alex could see the sleep gathering in John's eyes. His eyelids dipped low over his dark eyes, but John forced them open.

"I'm going to get an air mattress. You can take my bed tonight until we can get you your own," Alex offered. He was still speaking in English, but John didn't seem to notice. He slunk over to the bed and sat down.

"That's fine," John croaked, his voice raspy and uncertain with the words he was saying, obviously exhausted as he hadn't spoken in English in at least four days. Alex grinned, John could have sworn that the room lit up with his smile. Without another word, Alex turned and left the room, taking care to close the door softly as to not startle John, who was looking like some fragile bird, ready the take flight at the first loud noise.

Within two minutes, Alex had found the air mattress (a shitty thing, maybe four years old and covered with holes so it was basically a blanket because no air would stay in it.). He drug it out of the hall closet and brought it back to his room. By the time he had opened his bedroom door, John was already asleep, passed out on top of the covers, shivering as a cold wind blew through the open windows. Alex didn't even think about his actions as he grabbed a blanket and threw it over John's shoulders. Almost immediately, John's shivering ceased and he became still, bar the small puffs of air escaping his mouth. Alex spared a couple seconds to look over the small form huddled on his bed. The moonlight streamed through the windows, casting a heavenly glow over John. He looked almost other-worldly and maybe, Alex dared to say, peaceful.

Alex laid his air mattress next to his bed and hunkered down, not even bothering to change out of his clothes that he had worn that day. Sleeping in jeans wasn't as comfortable as sleeping in actual night-ware, but Alex was really tired. John's small breaths were calming and steady and it was enough to lull Alex to sleep. But unfortunately, with Alex, sleep never came without extra baggage. In his case, it was a ton of nightmare that plagued him non-stop.


	3. Every Part Aflame

Every Part Aflame

 **A/N- Thank you guys so much for reading this. I didn't think so many people would but... here we are. I have a special shout-out to AngelinHamilton, who left the first review on this story. Thanks you so much! I would also like to let you know that I am using the actors** **appearances** **as how the characters look (except Alexander Hamilton's eyes, which are historically accurate.) Thanks again.**

 **-TNS**

John woke up with someone whimpering and thrashing into the bed. At first, he was disoriented, wondering where he was, why he was here, and why the fuck was there an Elsa blanket on top of him. After he realized where he was (the Washington's house, in some kid named Alexander's room) he had a mini panic attack. There were a pair of legs flopped out from where John could see. And that was all John could see. Where was the rest of the owner of the legs body?

The legs thrashed again and John realized that it wasn't just a pair of severed legs on the ground in front of him. Instead it was a full body, the body of Alexander Hamilton who writhed under the influence of dreams. John could hear murmured snatches of his dreams, calls and wails in a foreign language.

"Ai, mama? Donde estas? Aymudame mama?" Alex shouted. John didn't speak Spanish, but he was pretty sure that was the language Alex was speaking. Even though John couldn´t understand Alex, he heard the terror in every word. He jumped off the bed and shook Alex on the shoulder. All he did was whimper and shake even more violently. Alex´s voice rose steadily and John was getting desperate.

"Alex! Alex wake up!" John yelled, panic rising as Alex thrashed.

Through the fog of Alex's dream, he could hear someone shouting his name, but he was too far gone to pay it any attention. Alex was busy rummaging through wreckage as the storm whipped his hair all around him.

A particularly strong gust wind sent Alex sprawling, and he saw his mother emerge from the dust and rubble. "Mom, where are you? Help me mom!" He shrieked. Deep down, he knew it was an illusion, his mother had been dead for a few years, but it didn't stop his vocal cords from going numb with the volume of his screams.

A baby's wail answered his cry and he abandoned the crushed house that he had previously been routing through. Alex stumbled to the child, picking it up and holding it to his chest. The baby's cries stopped and he began to coo. The bitter, harsh rain ripped through Alex's thin clothing. He had been totally unprepared for the storm and was now suffering the repercussions. As he held the child, he heard another scream, shrill and terrifying. He made his way over to where the noise was coming from, still clutching the child as if it were a lifeline. The baby began to cry again and Alex began to sing to it, an old drinking song that he had heard his mother sing once.

"Love doesn't discriminate/ Between the sinners and the saints/ It takes and it takes/ And we keep loving anyway/ We laugh and we cry/ And we break/ And we make our mistakes/ And if there's a reason I'm by her side/ And so many have tried/ I'm willing to wait for it." Alex sung. The baby's wailing ceased and Alex continued his search for the source of the scream. Finally, he came across the body of an old friend of his, a girl named Beth. She was trapped beneath a large beam of metal, her body covered in shattered rock fragments.

"Alex," she moaned "Alex, you have to help me!" He nodded and set the child down underneath an awning, so the rain couldn't reach it. He began to dig frantically, but Beth's breath was already short. A large chunk of rock was on top of her abdomen, making it impossible to breathe properly. As Alex threw the debris off of Beth's small body, she let out a little huff of air.

"Alex. Alex, I think I see... I see your mother. And... Daddy,'' Beth gasped once more and her body went limp, light leaving her eyes. The child began to cry again and Alex awoke with a start.

John Laurens stood over Alex's sweat covered body. Alex hunched over and started to sob. Through his heaving breaths, John could hear apologies and a girl's name. Alex continued to cry. John rubbed his back, letting Alex lean into his chest, feeling like the little baby from his dream. Not dream, memory.

"What can I do Alex? How can I help?" John felt close to screaming. He was just so useless and helpless and hopeless. No wonder his father had abandoned him.

"Laf. I need Lafayette," Alex huffed. HIs breath was short and he was wheezing. He felt like he was dying, terror had a firm grip on his lungs and was having fun squeezing them. He couldn't breathe!"

"Okay. Okay. Breathe with me Alex. One, two three four, five-" John tried to say calmly

"LAF! I need Laf!" Alex shouted. Without another word, John stood up and left the room, running. He was jogging through the hallways when he ran into a tall boy, flawless in stature, and distinctly French-looking.

"Are you Lafayette?" John asked

"Yes, you are John, non? The new boy in the house?" Laf said. He saw the panic in John's eyes and laid a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder "Why are you running through the hallways in the middle of the night? Is everyone okay?"

"It's Alex. I think he's having a panic attack. He was sobbing and it was like he couldn't breathe. He was asking for you," John coughed out, winded from his sprint down the hallways of the Mansion. Laf leaped into action, racing towards Alex's room. He grabbed John's hand and drug him along. Laf flung the door open with a passion and ran to Alex, who was lying flat on his back, struggling to breathe. His eyes were shut tight, whimpers escaping his closely locked lips.

"Breathe Alex. Count with me. Un, duex, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, nuef," Laf chanted, a small tune accompanied the words. Alex wheezed the last two numbers and Laf relaxed minimally. He repeated counting and Alex sung along this time, adding his low baritone into the mix, where it mingled with Laf's alto voice. On the third round of numbers, John joined in, the words escaping his mouth without his bidding. So, the three teens sung French numbers in their respective tones; Laf's alto, John's tenor, and Alex's baritone as they sat, huddled on the bedroom floor, each mourning the simplicity of their old lives.

It was around 8:00 in the morning when Lafayette stirred. He patted Alex on the back, waking him up from his daze. During the night, Alex had leaned into John and John relished the warmth. He had nestled himself into the crook of John's elbow, his nose expelling small bursts of air into John's armpit, but John didn't mind. Lafayette had sprawled across Alex's lap, who was lying across John, so it was a massive dog pile of fucked up teenagers. They hadn't talked at all, other than reciting French numbers. No tears were shed, no stories were told, and no one felt pity for the other. It was a mutual understanding of each other's pain, and in a way, it was beautiful. John had spoken more that single night then he had in about a week. The Washington Mansion was cozy, homelike, a John was peaceful at last.

Laf spread out in a stretch across Alexander's middle, and John felt a rush of longing. He had avoided excessive physical, but now he yearned for it. Alex pressed his head deeper into John's elbow and John felt a sense of triumph, like a dog marking territory, telling everyone that Alex was his property. Which, of course was ridiculous. Alex didn't belong to anybody, certainly not the new boy, who had been present in his life for a mere twelve hours.

"Alexandre, it is the time of morning. We must get up. Come on mon amie," Laf whispered into Alex's ear. Alex groaned and shook his head, tilting his head to look John directly in his eyes. John noticed that his eyes were a rare violet blue. It was like a purple-ish sea, empty and violent. It scared John a little bit, but then Alexander's eyes changed, becoming warmer and accepting. Alex was like the ocean, ever-changing, inconsistent, and beautiful. Something to look at only, and never touch. Yet, people did touch they ocean. They swam in it, kissed in it, practically lived in it. And John could see why. He could live in Alexander's eyes forever.

Alex's eyes looked around John's face, as though searching, but for what, John didn't know. Lafayette let out a small cough to remind the two he was there, and Alex turned back around to face him.

"Do we have to get up Laf? Can't we just stay here forever? It's warm here and we have back-to-school shopping today. I would much rather just sleep, instead of braving the hell that is Target," Alex groaned, looking wistfully at the blanket Laf had discarded when he had tried to wake Alexander up. "Now I'm cold," he took the opportunity to try and bury himself deeper into the warmth John provided. Not that John was complaining. Alex fit perfectly in the crook of his elbow, like he was meant to be there. Lafayette gave up his battle of trying to get Alex to wake up, and instead leaned back into Alexander. John felt his eyelids dip lower and lower, as Alex and Laf's warmth seeped down into to him. Just as Alex's breath evened out into sleep, the bedroom door was flung open, reveling a tall teen, maybe a year older then themselves. His eyes were an ice-blue and were just as cold.

"You fucking gremlins think you can get away with shoving seven toilet paper rolls, you have something coming to you," the boy declared

"Go fuck yourself, Lee," Alexander said, leaning back into John's chest.

"You wish, stinking slut," Lee growled, before noticing John "Oh ho, who is this? Is he a new member of the Gay Parade you run around here? God save his soul!" Lee chuckled. Without warning, Alex shoved Lafayette off of him and lunged at Lee. Lee squealed, ducking out of the room as Alex ran at him. Laf jumped up and grabbed Alex's shirt, holding him back from rearranging Lee's face. He drug him back on to the floor, where John sat, shell-shocked.

"Who was that?" John asked, a little wary of setting Alex off again

"That, is someone most commonly known as The Devil's Reincarnate. The death of all things good, homophobic extraordinaire, Charles Lee. He's been with Washington for about two years because no one has enough balls to take him in. He's a year older than us, he's seventeen," Laf explained "I'm 16, newly turned, and Alex here is 15-"

"AND ¾!" Alex insisted. "I am 15 and ¾. Not just 15! Goddamned Lee thinks he has authority over me because he's a year older than me," He grumbled.

"I'm 15 and ¾ too. I turn 16 in October," John said

"I turn 16 in January," Alex pouted a little. "Why is everyone older than me?"

"Hold on to your youth little one. It is so fleeting," Laf joked.

John and Lafayette snorted as Alex balled his fist and pretended to throw a punch at Laf.

"Come on you guys. Didn't you say we are doing back to school shopping? I love shopping," John smiled and removed himself from the pile. "I also love Target. And French Toast," he added on as an afterthought.

"I think you'll fit right in," Alex and Laf said in synchronization.

The three teens got up and followed John out of the door, the worries, stress, and traumatic experiences pushed to the back of their minds for the time being.


	4. Infiltration

**Infiltration**

 **A/N: Sorry this is so short. I hope for longer chapters in the future, but I've been avoiding this update for two days, and it needed to happen. Let's give lots of love to addyb0123 and TouchFr0st. You have been encouraging me to write, and are probably the only reason this chapter exists. Thank you so much. I'm glad that out of all the fanfictions, you chose to read mine. Also thanks to all my readers. I love you guys.**

 **-TNS**

Lee was lonely. That was all there was to it. He was lonely, bitter, and filled with self-loathing. Nobody liked him and it was all his fault. But now he was the villain and there was nothing he could do about it. Well, nothing except be the best villain ever. He would be sure to fill everyone else's lives with as much hatred that had plagued him since he was a child.

Lee knew that the Washington's didn't want to keep him. He pretended not to notice them crossing their fingers beneath the table every time that dumb ass Burr stopped by, hoping that someone was coming to take Lee off their hands. But no one came. He had been at the Mansion for a little over a year, at least two times the normal stay time at the Mansion. He had friends, sure. There was George King, who just went by King, there was Samuel Seabury, who they called Sam. They had been at the Mansion for longer than he had, especially King. But the difference was that King and Sam kept to themselves, except to bother Washington and Hamilton on occasion. Not Lee though, he was committed. He was going to make them suffer. Washington and Hamilton and Lafayette (ugly French bastard) all had each other. And Lee had nobody. Nobody to lean on and nobody to confide in. Sure, Sam and King were his friends, but it was only for their own benefit. There was no warmth nor affection in their relationship.

Lee had been plotting almost all night, planning how Lafayette and Hamilton would pay for putting toilet paper in the toilet, efficiently clogging it. He had come up with a pretty good idea. It involved some physical harm directed toward Hamilton, and possibly giving Lafayette a panic attack that would hopefully kill him, but he had thrown it out the window when he saw the new kid. He saw how comfortable Hamilton was with him, and if Hamilton was cool with the new kid, Lafayette was going to follow his lead. That was going be his way in to their friendship. He could tell the hunger in the new kids eyes, and guessing from his new friends, he was probably gay. Lee was surprisingly good seduction. He supposed he was relatively attractive. He made sure to style his hair in something that resembled a combover and a body that he though was frankly to die for. Now, how to get past the bad blood between Lafayette and Hamilton?

John had discovered hate at first sight. He was generally a peaceful person, but the Charles Lee grated on his every nerve. The way he looked down at Laf and Alex, scrutinizing their every move, degrading them with his ice-blue eyes, a stark contrast from the purple-blue color of Alex's eyes. Alex's eyes had several emotions, but Lee's only had one. True and deep hatred. It irked John to no end.

John and Alex and Laf had made their way downstairs when Lafayette immediately broke off from the group, jogging towards a tall, dark teen, well-muscled, and John dared to say, ripped. He was huge, but elegant, like a lion. John turned around to face Alex, ready to ask for an explanation, but Alex was already on top of it.

"That's Hercules Mulligan. He's the Washington's adopted son, and he and Laf have had this endless slow-burn thing going on, but don't have enough guts to ask each other out. It would be cute if it weren't so nauseating," Alex explained, choking on his words as he watched Lafayette run his hand through Herc's short buzz cut.

"Hm. I don't know, I think it's kind of cute and endearing," John was secretly wishing that someone was there to give him the same type of affection that Laf and Herc supplied to each other. Before he could sit down at the breakfast table to eat his sizzling bacon that some girl had made (he would say she was hot if he weren't so damn gay!), Martha Washington called him up to the front of the Dining Room. She leaned down and whispered in his ear;

"Introduce yourself. If you can. If not, Alexander or I can do it," She paused, thinking for a second "You do speak English, right?"

"Yes, quite fluently. It's my first language after all," he turned, facing the rest of the table, who had sat down in what John assumed was their respective ages at The Mansion. There were twelve or more children, each with their own distinctive features, like Laf's hair, Alex's eyes, and Herc's enormous muscles. He cleared his throat to get their attention. "Hello, my name is John Laurens, my father is Henry Laurens, you may have heard of him," he heard several snorts and boos around the table. He couldn't even bring himself to defend his father, he just plowed on "He abandoned me at a hospital and so here I am. I'm 15 and ¾ and my birthday is on October 28 and I look forward to getting to know you all," John turned around so he was facing Martha again. She nodded and looked at all of her foster children.

"I expect you all to treat him with civility, a courtesy that I am sure John will return to each of you. Any bullying, cursing, or insults directed at John or his father will be punished accordingly. I wish to remind you that we are not our parents and so, I am sure John is not like his father," she bowed her head and the pointed at an open spot right next to Herc and Lafayette, across from Alexander and unfortunately, Lee. "You can go sit there for now. We might move you as kids come and go, but for now, it'll do." John smiled at Martha, then went over to take his seat.

Lafayette laughed as John sat next to him, ruffling John's ponytail. "Such fortune my friend, for us to be sitting at the same table. We are already friends, non?" Laf looked at Herc, who reached a hand across for John to shake.

"My names Hercules Mulligan. I'm a cobbler's apprentice, but I really want to make clothing. It's been one of my dreams since I was a child. That along gay marriage rights," He grasped John's hand and shook it with a passion. If Herc hadn't been smiling so broadly, he would have assumed that Herc was stating his dominance over John. Or at least staking a claim of Lafayette, who blushed when he saw how tightly Herc was gripping John's poor hand.

"I totally agree with that. I am gay myself, and gay marriage is a topic very close to my heart," John smiled, struggling not to shake his hand so he could get some blood flow back. He turned around to face Alexander. Alex gifted him with a small smile, his violet eyes flooding with an emotion that John couldn't name. He passed John a platter of bacon and eggs, which John piled high upon his plate. He couldn't remember the last time he had been willing to eat. It had been a while. The doctors said he had Anorexia, but John was pretty sure that wasn't the case. He just wasn't hungry. About halfway through his eggs and bacon, John could feel his meal worming its way back up through his throat. He carefully placed his silverware back on the table in front of him. Alex eyed him worriedly as John stood up, nodding at George and Martha, before walking calmly out of dining room to the bathroom. As soon as he was out of eyeshot, he sprinted to the bathroom and vomited up his meal. He lay, panting, on the bathroom carpet. Once his stomach was empty, John stood up and washed his hands, scrubbing until the skin turned read and started to flake off. He returned to the kitchen, saying nothing, avoiding the stares he was getting. He sat back down between Herc and Laf, listening to their conversation. Lafayette turned around to face John.

"Are you okay, mon amie. You look pale. Where did you go?" Laf questioned.

"I'm fine Laf. I just had to use the bathroom. I'm okay. Just... not as hungry as I thought. Please, I want to hear more about Herc's fashion designing. I would love to model for some of them. I also love clothes. It's one of my passions. I also stand for BLM, but my father wasn't a huge supporter of the cause. I tried to change his mind but... it didn't go so well," Talking about his father made him want to puke again, so John pasted a fake smile on his face and changed the subject. John could feel Alex's eyes burning a hole through his skull, so he made a special effort not to look at him. It would only make him guilty. He needed to pretend he was normal. Even if it killed him.


	5. Here Come the Schuyler Sisters

Here Comes the Schuyler Sisters (This Should Be Fun)

 **A/N: Hey, The-Non-Socialite again! I'd like to thank everyone who has read my story. We recently cleared 300 views, so I am thankful to everyone who contributed. Special thanks to everyone who left a review! That's so much! You guys are the reason I continue to write. Thanks again!**

 **-TNS**

Alex was worried about John. He had seen how pale John was, how quickly he had left the dining room, his half-assed answer to Laf's question. It was driving him mad, not knowing if his friend was okay. So, he did what he always did when he was nervous or anxious. He wrote.

Alex excused himself from the table and went up to his room, where he took out his old Mac Book and began to write. He typed like a madman, getting in over 30 words a minute. He was working on a paper on gay marriage that he was going to send out to Congress. He was only four pages into the document, barely clearing 1,500 words. If he wanted to be recognized, he was going to need a paper that was over ten pages. His fingers were starting to go numb with all the exercise he was giving them. He only came out of his daze when John entered the room.

"Uh... Alex, Martha says we'll be leaving for the park soon and going to Target right after. She says you have to get dressed too," John said, his eyes scanning Alex's P.J.s and T-Shirt. Alex blushed, crossing his hands in front of his chest. He stood, and went over to the dresser, grabbing a plain black T-Shirt emblazoned with a band logo that he didn't recognize, and a pair of ripped up jeans. Alex made to move to the bathroom that was adjoined to the bedroom, but John held out his hand to stop him.

"Nah dude, it's okay. I was leaving anyways. I don't have clothes with me, they're all at my dad's place, and I doubt he'll let me go back," John said, sounding a little bit wistful.

"You can borrow some of mine. Of Laf's, they might fit you better than mine would, I'm a good deal shorter than you," Alex smiled and shoved John's shoulder with his. John blushed a little and laughed, hiding his nervousness.

"I'll be sure to check that out," as fast as he could, without running, John darted out of the room, leaving Alex alone to change. Alex pulled on his clothes, wincing as the rough fabric rubbed against his scars. The pain reminds him to cover up his self-harm with his signature foundation. Three minutes later, he emerges from his room, fully dressed and ready for the day. John was waiting outside the door, leaning against the wall, wearing some of Laf's old clothes. He was decked out in a green turtleneck and a pair of black pants that resembled leggings, except with a more masculine design. Alex remembered when Laf had worn them a week ago. Herc's face had been bright red the entire day. Now, he was sure his own face strongly resembled Herc's from back then. Luckily, John had tied a sweatshirt around his middle, which made his outfit slightly less awkward. And the turtleneck was almost tunic like, so it brushed against his thighs. Alex was pretty sure that it had just been a regular shirt on Laf, so John must have been shorter than he thought.

"Hey. You look good," Alex observed, making sure that he wasn't staring too long at any one part of John.

"Thanks. It's all Laf's stuff. Things he doesn't wear anymore. I had to force him to give me this jacket though. He wanted me to go outside without it! How crazy is that?" John laughed, watching Alex's face light up red.

"Ha ha ha. Yeah crazy, right? Laf is so... crazy," Alex chuckled, trying to banish the image of John without the sweatshirt. "Anyways, when are we leaving for the park?"

"Ten minutes ago," John chuckled "But Martha said that you're a work-acholic and would probably punch anyone that disturbed you. But I took my chances 'cause I heard that there was going to be a Frisbee tournament, and I freakin' love Frisbee."

"Same! Frisbee is God's gift to man, and me and Herc are the only people that can actually play without falling over. It's great that we have another player now!"

"Oh, you're going down Old-Man-Ham! I rock at Frisbee! I'm about to beat your ass so hard-" John teased.

"Beat whose ass?" Lafayette said, as he appeared from around the corner "If we're beating asses, I'm in!"

"Beating asses? Hit me up!" Herc followed after Lafayette as he rounded the corner.

"Nobody is beating anyone's asses," Alex huffed, exasperated.

"Well, except for me," John countered "I'm going to beat all y'all's asses at Frisbee!"

"Is that a challenge?" Hercules asked, narrowing his eyes playfully

"You bet! I am amazing at Frisbee. I am the Frisbee God! In fact, I declare that if I win this Frisbee tournament, you must all call me the Frisbee God!" John ordered

"It's a bet. If Alex or I win, you have to call us the Frisbee Gods!" Herc shot back

"And if I win, you all have to make my coffee for a week," Laf added

"Laf, you suck at Frisbee," Alex pointed out

"Exactly. No love lost if I lose." Laf sighed "It's not my fault that I have horrible hand-eye coordination. I blame it on Herc for hitting me with that basketball on the head six months ago."

"You had awful aim back then too. It's hardly my fault," Herc scoffs.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, stop your flirting," Alex slaps Hercules on his arm "It's making me gag. You guys should just date already."

"It-it's- it's not- I don't speak English," Lafayette stuttered.

Alex leaned over to whisper in John's ear "That's his defense tactic. If he doesn't know how to answer something, he'll stutter than yell 'I don't speak English', which he totally does."

"That's a good strategy. I ought to try that out sometime," John chuckled

"You could, but I don't think anyone would fall for it. No offense, but you scream sheltered white boy," Alex teased

"I'm offended! For your information, I'm also part Swedish, English, and I think I might have a little Middle Eastern in me. That's not just white."

"True. It's just mostly white. But still, mad props for diversity man," Alex clapped him on the back.

The four teenagers halted their chatter to listen to Martha, who was calling their names from down stairs. They could hardly hear her through the thick walls, but if they strained their ears hard enough, they could understand what she was saying.

"Hercules, Lafayette, John, Alexander, we're getting ready to leave!" Martha called, before another, more harsh voice covered over her's.

"HERC, LAF, ALEX, AND NEW GUY! GET YOUR ASSES DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW! I WANT TO PLAY SOME DAMN FRISBEE!"

"That's Angelica Schuyler. She's awesome, badass, and terrifying. If you mess with her, you will probably die. Her father is Philip Schuyler, a really rich business man, but she's practically part of the Founding Father's family. Her and all of her sisters too," Laf explained, suddenly regaining the ability to speak English "She's also pretty in love with Alex."

"Oh. So, you're... straight then?" John asked, feeling a little jealous.

"Nah, I'm bi. But I don't like Angelica. She's like a sister to me," Alex explained

"Her sister on the other hand..." Herc trailed off with a smile as Alex shoved him.

"It was a long time ago. Eliza's not like that. She's a live-and-let-live sort of person. She was always more of a friend then a girlfriend anyways," Alex blushed a little, while John tried to ignore the green envy monster rearing its head in his chest.

"Cool. That's cool. I can't wait to meet everyone officially," The last part wasn't a lie, at least. He did want to meet everyone, he didn't want to seem aloof and uncaring. These people were going to be his family from now on, they deserved respect, kindness, and support where he could provide it. "Whoa," he thought "This whole 'not being alone all the time' has really changed me. I kind of like it."

"Everyone wants to get to know you as well. We're in this together now. You, me, Alex, Herc, and Magnolia the cat," Laf confided.

"Whose Georges the cat?" John asked

"The scum of the devil," Alex and Herc chorused.

"Ah, mon ami, she's not that bad!" Lad argued, running a hand through his bushy hair, as he tried to comb it back into a ponytail so it would stop getting in his eyes.

"You only say that because she doesn't try to claw your face off whenever you get too close," Alex grimaced as he held up his hand for John to see. His knuckles were covered in the crisscrossed pattern of a cat's claws. "You think I would have learned that you can't pet the damn thing!"

"You still try to pet her?" Herc asked, disbelief coloring his words. In response, Alex held up his hand again, the scars glinting in the dim light of the hallway as if to say 'Well duh,"

"That's not very smart," John remarked, in a joking tone.

"She's just so damn cute. She's about as small as my hand and the god-damned thing purrs when you come in close and the bam!" Alex leaned in suddenly, startling John so much that he jumped back, "She strikes!"

Another scream from downstairs reminded them that they actually had things to do. The shrill voice broke them out of their calming bickering, forcing them to pay attention to the world outside of the safe hallway that had become a refugee for a few short minutes.

"I suppose we have to go downstairs before Ange blows her lid and murders someone," Alex sighed, disappointed that the moment had been ruined.

Herc, Laf, Alex, and John walked down the hallways and down the stairs, until they arrived at the bottom, and were faced with who John assumed was Angelica Schuyler. He lost his breath as he looked at her. She was tall, stately, and drop-dead gorgeous. Her skin was dark and flawless, like chocolate milk. She had a long, graceful neck, with hair as black as night and looked as soft as silk. She wore a pale pink tunic, accompanied with a chunky belt and leggings. She was effortless, beautiful, and she looked pissed.

"I am convinced that you all have turned into turtles, the lot of you!" Angelica hissed "I've been down here forever!"

"Sorry Ang, but we brought you a new friend. Meet John," Laf introduced John, who crept forward, intimidated by this girl who looked like she could have killed him with a finger.

"Angelica Schuyler. Skilled in karate, judo, and professional ass-kicker. If you fuck with any of my friends, I will end you," She smiled amicably and offered a hand. Before John could shake it, another girl appeared, as beautiful as Angelica. Her skin was lighter, but they had the same build and the same nose as her sister.

"Stop it Angie! You're going to scare him away," She shoved Angelica away and put her hand where her sisters used to be. "My name's Elizabeth Schuyler, but everyone calls me Eliza. Sometimes, my sisters will call me Betsy, but if you do, I will take a chainsaw to your head," She offered up the same smile Angelica had given him.

"Are all you Schuyler's this terrifying?" John asked, reaching out to shake Eliza's hand.

"Be grateful you haven't met Peggy yet!" Angelica, Eliza, Alex, Hercules, and Lafayette said at the same time. As soon as they said that, a blur of brown and black curly hair, tan skin, and yellow, flew around the corner.

"AND I'M PEGGY!" The whirlwind of color screamed. She stopped in front of John, elbowing Eliza out of the way, as she through her arms around John's middle "I'm the best Schuyler! Everyone loves me, favors me, and adores me, but Eliza says I have attachment issues. I'm 14 years old, love cat's yellow, and I probably don't have attachment issues. Or maybe I do."

"She totally does, we can't leave her anywhere. She's freaks out and calls the police, saying that we've been kidnapped. It's crazy," Eliza laughed, prying Peggy off of John. He finally got a good look at the sisters standing next to each other.

The Schuyler Sisters were as different as sun and moon, but he could identify some common features between the siblings. They all had the same body shape, lean and muscled, similar facial structures, and the same good posture. From there, the similarities ended. Eliza was pale with long, straight, dark hair and a calming attitude. She radiated an aura of homeliness and modesty. Peggy was more flamboyant and colorful. She had a permanent excitement on her face, and in a more physical aspect, she was more curvaceous than her sisters. Her skin was tan and she had large brown eyes, framed with dark lashes and blush pink cheeks. Then came Angelica. She was commanding and beautiful. Headstrong, with strong features and a kick-ass personality. Her skin was the darkest of her sisters, but she practically glowed with warmth. There was no doubt that the sisters were beautiful and John was sure that if he straight it would have been love at first sight (but he wasn't straight. He was the gayest).

"It's nice to meet you all crazy Schuyler sisters," John resisted the urge to cover his head with his arms to ward off any unwanted attacks that the Schuyler's might rage upon his body for calling them crazy.

"Oh, I like him! He's realistic, and kind of cute! Can we keep him?" Peggy whined, turning around to look at Martha, who he hadn't even noticed until then.

"He's not a dog, Peggy! But yes, he's here to stay," Martha sighed, rubbing at an oncoming headache. She had been feeling ill for a while, but the promise of the new school year and John's sudden arrival kept her on her feet.

"I'm John Laurens, but-" John held up his hands to halt the Schuyler Sisters in mid death-glare "I don't agree with any of his views. He kicked me out of his house, left me in a hospital without money, correspondence. So, I basically have nothing. I'm pretty pissed at him right now."

The Schuyler Sisters frowned, before Eliza went in for a hug. She wrapped her arms tightly around John's waist and put her head on his shoulder. "I am so sorry," she whispered. Never one to be left out of a hug, Peggy joined in, holding her sister and John tightly. Angelica sighed, looking reluctant, but she eventually caved and hugged her sisters. John felt uncomfortable, until he relaxed into the embrace, the warmth of the hug seeping into his bones. Even though these people who he was, what he like, or even what he believed in, they were still willing to hug him tightly, without the fear of contaminating themselves or the fear of being in close quarters with a stranger. With the Schuyler Sisters, boundaries disappeared, leaving John vulnerable. It was one of the greatest feelings in the world. And, of course, Charles Lee had to ruin it.

He swaggered down the stairs in a tank-top, his hair tousled, shoulders thrown back into a 'God's gift to man' sort of posture. He paused at the bottom of the stairs to take in the sight of the Schuyler's and John hugging.

"Told them your little sob story, faggot? Or are you not a faggot? The Slut Sisters taught you another way to see the world, huh?" Lee sneered. Eliza gasped, Peggy jumped back, and Angelica lunged at Lee, bringing her hand across his face with a slap that reverberated around the room. When she withdrew her hand, there was a red mark in the exact same shape of Angelica's hand.

"Say that shit again and I won't leave my fist open. If I'm lucky, I'll break your nose," She growled at him. Martha stepped forward to separate the two, holding a snarling Angelica at arm's length.

"Can we just pretend to like each other for one morning? Lee, if you can't keep your mouth under control, you will stay at home for a month without ever seeing sunlight. Angelica, if you raise a hand against another of my kids, I'll be forced to send you home," Martha threatened "I don't want to do any of those things, so I suggest you keep your damn hands to yourself and set a good example to the children!" She steered Angelica away from Lee, the former made sure to glare daggers at the latter.

"Come on John," Eliza said, worry in every syllable. She put a hand on his shoulder, but John shrugged her off, his good mood ruined. Lafayette, Hercules, and Alex stood awestruck by the front door.

"Let's go. I have a Frisbee tournament to win," John smiled, but he was sure everyone in the room could feel the fakeness of it. At this point, he didn't care. He was in a foul mood, and the whole world needed to know.


	6. Talk Less

**Talk Less**

 **A/N: I am thrilled at the response that this story is receiving. Thanks all of you who have read and reviewed! This story recently cleared 10,000 words (putting it at over 27 pages), which means it shows up when you're looking for a longer story (YAY). This chapter contains homophobic slurs and the like. Thanks again, and please leave a review.**

 **-TNS**

The weather was nice, the sun glared brightly, there were no clouds outside, not even a hint of rain in the air, but John was a thunderstorm in and of himself. Martha had trusted Hercules, Lafayette, Alex, Angelica, Eliza, Peggy, and John enough to take a car to Central Park alone. Angelica and Peggy sat in the front seat, Peggy on top of Angelica's lap. Eliza sat on top of Hercules, who acted as though Eliza was weightless. Lafayette and Alex shared the middle seat, while John got the far left seat to himself. He had argued that it wasn't fair, but the group wouldn't let him. Alex was convinced that John was overly-space sensitive, refusing to let him sit on someone's lap and let Eliza have the empty seat. Personally, John was kind of pissed, he had been looking forward to an opportunity to be closer to Alex, and sitting on his lap would certainly be the way. The cab lurched forwards, weighed down by the numerous persons it held. Lafayette began a conversation with the driver in French, and John was fairly certain that the cab driver didn't speak the language. Nonetheless, he nodded along to what Lafayette was saying.

John leaned into Alex's side as the car turned. Even after the car straightened itself, he didn't move away, and Alex made no move to remove him, instead, he leaned back, invading John's personal space, but strangely enough John didn't wince or shy away from his touch. The cab tilted again, sending Lafayette sprawling into Herc's lap, displacing Eliza from her perch. She tumbled to the floor of the car and Lafayette accidentally took her place.

"God dammit, Marquis de Fuckface! Watch where you put your ass!" Herc yelled, shoving Lafayette off of his lap, placing him back on to the middle seat. He hoisted Eliza off the ground and put her on his lap again.

"Did you just say 'Marquis'?" John asked, a little dazed from Alex's touch. The latter was curled into a small ball of laughter.

"Well, yeah. That's his official title. He has some insanely long name, but it ends with Gilbert du Montier, Marquis de La Fayette. I can never remember the entire name, so we just call him 'Gil' or 'Lafayette' or 'Laf'," Herc explained.

"My full name is Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de La Fayette, Marquis de La Fayette. I was baptized by a Spaniard, who gave me all of the names under the sun," Lafayette sighed "Sometimes even I don't remember my entire name."

"So, your first name is technically Marie?" John grinned "Why didn't anyone tell me this before? I have a friend, who is a male, with the first name of Marie! This is great guys," he paused, thinking for a second "Hey, if you're a Marquis, why do you live in a foster home? Aren't you super rich or something?" Too late, he realized how untactful his question was. He was used to voicing his opinions without consequence because of his father, but Henry Lauren's name carried no weight here, in fact, it was more of burden then anything.

"Yes, mon amie. I am rich. But because of legal rights, I have no access to my family's wealth until I am 18. I am in the foster system because my parents are dead. Much like the rest of us at Founding Fathers," Lafayette said, his tone a little sour, clearly showing how much John's question had offended him.

"Hey, I'm sorry man, I didn't mean any offense by it. I was just curious," John apologized, feeling the tension in the cab grow to unspeakable amounts. Even the cabbie was dead silent, obviously eavesdropping on the conversation.

"It's fine," Lafayette muttered in a voice that clearly said that it was not fine. John's already bad day became worse by a multiple of about 500. The thunderstorm brewing beneath the surface of John's skin kicked up again, a whirlwind of frustration, anger, disappointment, and sadness. Alex seemed to sense his mood, he leaned away from John, leaving his side colder than before, allowing the thunderstorm to add another emotion to the mix; longing.

After six more minutes of high tension with Peggy making 'My Little Pony' references that nobody understood, the cabbie let them out. Angelica paid for the ride, ignoring the fact that the cabbie had priced the rider higher than what it would be normally. ' _Fine'_ she thought _'I'll let myself get scammed by an underpaid cabbie.'_

* * *

Alex was readying himself for a major win. Lafayette was a horrible shot, Herc always threw the disk too hard, so Alex made sure to make it a rule that they had to have boundaries. Then there was John. Alex had never seen John play, but he wasn't even doing warm-ups. He was just sitting under a tree that threw shade over his high cheekbones. Under the tree, John looked depressed and sad. Alex was constantly worried about John's sudden mood swings. It was giving him an ulcer.

About five minutes after they arrived in the park, Martha and the rest of the kids showed up in her impressively orange minivan that she had bought on sale because it was the only thing large enough to fit all of the kids (it didn't). She swerved with extreme accuracy into a parking spot that was much too small for the vehicle. The children flooded out of the van and on to the park, spreading out, quickly finding other friends that happened to be at the park as well. Lee and Martha got out of the car, Martha cradling a smaller child in her arms. Lee was also lugging around a child, who had attached itself to his waist. He was obviously hating every moment of it. As soon as he stepped foot on the grass, he shoved the child off of him, sending the boy tumbling towards the ground. Lafayette darted forward and grabbed the kid before he hit his head on the ground. He set the child down gently, then promptly straightened and spat in Lee's face.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Lafayette said, his voice deadly calm, as he readjusted his stance so it would be easier to hit Lee.

"That little monster was crawling all over me! Those little fuckers need to learn that they can't crawl all over me! Also, you should know better than to curse around the kids," Lee mocked, wiping saliva off of his face. He clenched his fists and readied himself to hit Lafayette in the face. Before he could throw a punch, John ran in front of his fist, pushing Lafayette to the ground. Alex gasped; he hadn't even see John move from under the tree, but there he was, hand over eye, which was already swelling.

"Damn!" John hissed, before straightening and returning another punch. He hit Lee right in mouth, sending Lee ass over tea kettle into the grass. Alex leapt up and grabbed John by the shoulders, stopping him from throwing another punch. John's chest was heaving, his eye was swollen closed and rimmed with a bruise.

"Stop John. He's done," Alex whispered into John's ear. John's heavy breathing ceased and he began to shiver, as he watched Lee writhe on the ground, overplaying his injury.

"Shit. Shit. Shit, shit, shit," John murmured "They're going to kick me out. Shit. Fuck. I fucked up. It's all over. Crap," he turned and buried his head into Alex's shoulder. Alex cursed his height for the fact that John had to lean down to reach his level. He reached up a hand a weaved a hand through John's hair.

"It's fine. It'll all be fine. They won't kick you out for this. I've done much worse, but I'm still here," Alex tried to comfort John, who was having none of it.

"Yeah, but you don't have anywhere else to go," John shot back, not thinking about how Alexander would react. Before he could realize the severity of his statement, Alex stiffened and pushed John off of his chest.

"Excuse me?" Alex questioned, his voice cold. John winced as he realized how his statement might have offended Alex.

"Shit. Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I just meant..." John let his voice trail off.

"What? You meant that no one else would want to take me in because I'm a bastard orphan with no future or prospects? Because I have nothing to offer anyone? Is that what you meant? 'Cause that's what it sounds like," Alex grits his teeth, then leans down and hauls Lafayette off the ground, the later shoots him a death glare, telling John that he might have prevented Lafayette from being punched, but he was not forgiven. Not at all.

"No! That's not what I meant! I was just scared that-" but John's shouting at thin air, as Alex and Lafayette have already walked away.

From the ground, John heard a small snort of laughter "There goes your fag friends, Rainbow Man. Or do you prefer Faggy McGee?" Lee snickered. John barely restrained himself from launching another punch at Lee, and instead goes to sit with Herc, who is bent over in a stretch. He nodded his head to show that he knew John was there, before he returned to his stretches. John decided to join him. He sat down on the ground in a straddle and began to reach for his toes.

"So, you guys are pretty serious about Frisbee here, right?" At that point, John was terrified of saying anything in case it pisses someone else off.

"Yup. It's the one game that we can play without me slaughtering everyone else. As I'm sure you can see," Herc gestured to his large muscles "It's not much of a competition with my strength."

John laughed. He bent over in a back bend, wincing as the cartilage between his muscles crackled with the movement. After 40 seconds, he comes out of the bend, and finds himself face-to-face with Herc's wiggling ass. Herc had stuck his rear into the air so he could get into an elaborate twist, and was groaning as the excise began to work.

"I've been cooped up inside for so long," Herc explained, as he poked his head through his legs so he could see John. "It's been ages since I got out and was able to do a nice, relaxing yoga class."

"I didn't picture you as the type to do yoga," John admitted.

"I am a man of many surprises. I pride myself on them," Hercules raised himself up and bent from side to side. "You ready to lose, New Guy?"

"Hardly. You better get used to calling me Frisbee God," John boasted. He watched as Hercules ran across the park to grab Alexander and Lafayette. Lafayette bounded over to join Herc as soon as he saw that Herc was moving towards him. Alex moved more slowly, as though he was fighting his way through molasses. Hercules dragged Alex and Lafayette over to a crowd of teenagers, leaving John to catch up to them. The other three quickly vanished into the mix of teenagers, and John couldn't see over the massive amounts of heads. Finally, a man that looked about 23, stood up on a crate, and began to talk. His voice was loud and commanding.

"Hear ye, hear ye! The Frisbee tournament shall now commence!" He bellowed, everyone around him cheered, which left John half deaf. As he shook his head to rid the ringing noise in his ears, the loud man was explaining the rules.

"We're going to play two on two games. As we play, teams will be eliminated and left to stew in your defeat. That is all. We'll have a sign-up sheet next to me," he gestured to his right, where a tall teenager stood, holding a clip-board. "Wave, Jimmy," Jimmy waved "That's where you'll be signing up. We'll be randomly pairing you up. If you don't like your partner, you're free to leave," he dismounted the crate and picked up a pen, signing his name with a flourish. As soon as he stepped back, the crowd rushed at the clip-board, eager to sign their names. John held back, waiting until the line was gone. He picked up the pen and signed his name at the bottom of the list. Jimmy grabbed the clip-board, looking a little worse for wear from the stampede of teenagers.

"Yo, Brandon! Let's pair these motherfuckers up!" Jimmy yelled, beckoning for the 23-year-old to join him. They conferred, bent over the clip-board, until Brandon straightened up and remounted the crate.

"Okay y'all! Listen the fuck up! I'm going to read out the pairs. If y'all can't hear me, that's your own damn fault! So, shut up the fuck up, and listen," Brandon began to read out names, John strained his ears to hear his name. Hercules sidled up besides John, dragging a reluctant looking Lafayette, and an even more depressed looking Alexander. Hercules leaned into John's side and whispered into his ear, his breath left a cold trail on the nape of John's neck.

"We better get good pairs. I don't want to call you or Alex the 'Frisbee God', when I know who the obvious champion of Frisbee is," Herc declared. Over the din of excited teenage voices, gossiping over their groups, John heard a faint;

"A dot Hamilton and John Laurens!"

"Shit," John murmured, turning to face an awestruck Alex, whose face was slowly becoming darker as Brandon's words seeped in. "Shit."

* * *

Alex barely restrained himself from rubbing his ears. Surely, he couldn't be that unlucky? But as he looked at his friends, seeing Lafayette's speechless face, Hercules' oblivious one, and John's adorable freckled face looking horrified. This is really happening, he thought.

John was shoved in Alex's direction, when he tripped over his untied shoelace, which sent him sprawling onto the ground. Before he could hit the dirt, Alex grabbed his arm, pulling him up off the ground. The momentum pushed John into Alex's chest. Alex shot out his arms to stabilize himself, as he toppled over backwards. John fell on top of him, bracing himself with his arms to avoid landing on Alex's midsection. Once the movement finally ceased, although not without the cost of the entire crowd turning around to look and John and Alex, John leaned into Alexander.

"I am so sorry. I didn't mean anything by what I said earlier. I was frustrated and worried. Please forgive me," John spewed.

"It's... it's okay John. Let's just get on with this game and prepare to kick some serious ass," Alex smiled at John, studying his freckles that dotted his face like a constellation. He couldn't contain himself, as he reached up and poked a couple of the groupings of freckles. "You have the Big Dipper on your face," Alex whispered, feeling a sense of triumphant as John's face turn a beet red. John withdrew, helping raise Alex off of the ground.

"You're right. Let's beat some ass."


End file.
